


not scared of anything (but saying this to you)

by babyitsbeautiful



Category: game of thrones
Genre: Boxing, F/M, Fluff, Let's Get Drunk, MMA, Sparring, axg week 2020, gym gendrya, meet cute, minor smut, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyitsbeautiful/pseuds/babyitsbeautiful
Summary: For the Arya x Gendry Week 2020 Prompt, "Let's Get Drunk" and inspired by a tumblr prompt of training/gym Gendrya
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	not scared of anything (but saying this to you)

**Author's Note:**

> https://babyitsbeautiful.tumblr.com/post/625656622612643840/imagine-arya-gendry-meeting-at-a-gym-while-she  
> Prompt, Inspiration can be found on this post. ^^
> 
> I wasn't planning on this, it just happened. 
> 
> "Oh My My" by Blue October

**_Oh, my my_ **

**_Yeah, I'm loving all your warning signs_ **

**_Cause I'm a sucker for you oh my my_ **

**_Girl you get me high_ **

**_Yeah, you're my type, you're danger, danger_ **

****

His body aches like a bitch, his muscles are well pushed past their limits and if his damn coach calls him a cunt one more time, he’s going to loosen his punches against the bag and start aiming them towards Sandor Clegane’s smug face.

He focuses on the task at hand as the sweat pours down his face, the gloves heavy on his slick skin. Gendry pictures The Hound’s face on the bag as he aims and hits, aims and hits, but also remembering the breathing techniques he was taught as well, if he slacked on that now, he’s sure to get hell for it when Sandor realizes it. 

He needs a break and he can feel himself growing weaker by the minute, and it doesn’t go without notice, “You’re pulling your punches.”

Sandor holds onto the bag as Gendry’s arms work to keep up his momentum, “I’m fucking tired!”

“No, you’re fucking lazy and I don’t train lazy. Take five and get your shit together, boy.”

The Hound lets go of the bag as he walks away and it swings slightly, but it’s still just enough to knock him off balance during his last swing as he struggles to remain steady on his feet.

He curses and falls down on the bench where his water and towel lay, eagerly taking as much of it down his dry throat as he can.

For the first time in over an hour of their session, he takes a few minutes to look around the gym, at the people working out and doing their own sparring, but when his eyes land on two people across the room, he finds he can’t look away.

A petite brunette is bouncing across the mat, moving her body in a way that he’s never seen before while an older, but not much taller, man stands off the to the side giving her both verbal and physical directions to follow as she prances around almost angelic like.

She moves too fast for him to get a good look at her, but that doesn’t matter as his trance is broken when his view is suddenly overtaken by the massive brick wall that is Sandor fucking Clegane.

_I miss Davos_ , he mutters under his breath as he uses his towel to wipe as much sweat off his body as he can.

“Well the old man threw out his back, so unfortunately for the both of us, you’re stuck with me until he recovers so stop your moping and get back to work.”

Gendry sighs heavily and stands, “Would it kill you to be nice, for just a second. Not, not even nice, just something other than a complete _dick_?”

“It just might. Shut your mouth and give me twenty, I’m not wasting my time on you if I didn’t think you had a decent chance of becoming a great boxer someday, kid.”

“Wow, I think that was almost a compliment.”

“Shut the fuck up and get on the ground.”

He rolls his eyes and falls to the floor for his push-ups, contemplating on how he came to be here in the first place.

Gendry has been working hard for years to be the boxer he’s always dreamed of being and due to an unfortunate incident that caused his former trainer, Davos Seaworth, to remain on bed rest for a back injury, he was forced to move to King’s Landing from Storm’s End to train with the infamously crude Sandor “The Hound” Clegane, one of the best former boxers in all of Westeros.

The gym they spend everyday training in belongs to one of Sandor’s former opponents, and friendly rivals, Beric Dondarrion, who lets them have free range on the place whenever they’d like.

At least the few times he’s interacted with Beric, he actually got full sentences and a couple half-hearted smiles versus the grunts and insults he gets every second of the day with The Hound.

He tries to be nice, to be polite and greet him with a _good morning_ or a _have a nice night_ , expecting to get something in return, even a slight smile in acknowledgment at least. But no, all he gets is a signature resting bitch face that’s permanently implanted on the man’s hard features.

They have however, been making progress on the nice scale, except for today it seems. Today is irrevocably brutal and he doesn’t think anything can change that at this point.

After his push-ups, he’s ordered to practice some basic moves, his teacher letting him know that learning the basics is prominent in being a skilled boxer.

He could do the basics in his sleep and tells Clegane as much, which earns him more insults and grunts, to which Gendry tries his best to flat out ignore for the remainder of today’s session.

Two hours after that, nearly four hours after they started, Gendry’s ready to call it a day and forces his aching legs to move his body towards the locker room when Sandor stops him in his tracks and tells him he’s extending today’s session.

All the built-up tension that’s been simmering all day comes to the surface and he’s seeing red, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been busting my ass all day, doing everything you’ve told me to do and I’m bloody beat for fuck’s sake.”

He’s yelling, not caring for a second at the attention he’s causing when he feels a shadow creep up on his left side, smaller than him but still feeling just as deadly.

It’s not until he hears her voice for the first time does some of that tension radiating throughout his body start to dissipate ever so slightly, “You know if the greatest boxing champion of all time tells you that you need the extra practice, you should probably stop bitching and start appreciating the opportunity he’s giving you, stupid.”

But when she walks away so quickly, not giving him the chance to respond to her retort, only earning a huff and a small, miniscule smile to form on the corner of Sandor Clegane’s lips, does that tension come back tenfold.

A girl of no more than five foot nothing just comes waltzing through here handing out unsolicited advice and with one comment in a few fucking seconds manages to do what he’s been attempting for months, to get The Hound to show an ounce of humility, well what the actual fuck.

He watches her back, and her very toned ass, as she retreats to the women’s locker room, that sparkle in her grey eyes and smug smirk on her glistening lips replaying on an infinite loop making his head spin with unrelenting curiosity.

And damn if he isn’t completely smitten with her already.

Sandor breaks him out of his trance with a swift slap to the back of the head, “The girl is right, but forget about her, you don’t need the distraction and she’s too good for you anyway.”

“Seriously, you don’t even know her!” Gendry’s eyes widen at yet another unsurprising insult.

“No, but I’ve heard of her trainer over there. Syrio Forel of Braavos, specializes in water dancing. She’s an MMA fighter which means she could probably knock you on your ass in ten seconds flat, which is what is going to happen to you in that ring if you don’t get your fucking twat self, back to work.”

He sighs, of course she’s a fighter. He couldn’t be sure because of the water dancing she was doing earlier but with a body like that, he knows Sandor is right. And he doesn’t need the distraction, but Gods forbid if he sees her in here again, he’s sure to be a goner.

***

The next time he sees her, about three days later, she looks exactly like he’s imagined. Strong, fierce, deadly, absolutely fucking beautiful. 

Since that first day he laid his eyes on her, he’s been coming in early and staying later than normal just to be able to see her again. Sandor hasn’t noticed the real reason yet and he suspects he thinks that Gendry has finally taken the initiative to work harder towards his ultimate goal.

They lock eyes when she walks out of the locker room as he’s doing his routine stretch session before Sandor gets done talking with Beric.

Her intense gaze remains fixated on his as she walks across the room, almost in slow motion, but her facial features remain passive giving away nothing as to what she is feeling.

It’s only when she turns her head to where her trainer is waiting on the other side of the gym does, he realize that the entire time he watched her he’d been holding in a deep breath.

He’s watching her again when Sandor finally catches up to him and he hears a frustrated sigh followed by a deep grunt and a mumble of “ _Oh for fucks sake_.”

“If I catch you slacking off from staring at that girl one time today, I’m going to beat your ass into the ground, you hear me?”

Gendry’s eyes fall onto Sandor and the look on his face has him nodding silently in agreement and perhaps a little bit of fear.

The following two weeks happen much the same way, he gets there early and is already hard at work when she walks in and their eyes always fall on the other, intrigue laced on both their faces although words are never spoken.

Sandor has given up on getting him to focus because once Gendry realizes she’s watching him, he aims to work his muscles even more than before, her eyes on him giving him that sort of adrenaline and serotonin increase that he needs and it’s definitely not hurting his ego either. He also thinks that the hound has developed a soft spot for both him and the water dancer.

It all comes to a head one Thursday afternoon when Gendry’s session is finished early due to Clegane no longer being able to _stand the sight of him_ for the day, so when his coach throws in the towel two hours before he’s supposed to, Gendry breathes a sigh of relief at the small break in schedule.

With his head to the ground and his arms propped up upon his knees, he sees small feet appear a few feet in front of him and his eyes involuntarily follow up her body, appreciating every curve along the way until his head lifts up and he meets her steely gaze.

“Are you pissed at me because I told you to quit bitching and called you stupid in front of The Hound, because I’m fairly certain he’s called you worse.”

Her hand is on her hip with it perfectly jutted out to show off her curves through her leggings and the sight alone has his brain going fuzzy again. He shakes it off subtly and wipes some of the sweat away while laughing, “No, I’m not pissed, well not about your comment per say.”

He decides opting out of telling her how she got the stubborn hound to crack a smile before him and instead says, “Why do you think I’m pissed at you?”

She relaxes her stance and crosses her arms over her chest, “Because you’ve been eye fucking me for weeks now and haven’t said a damn word.”

Well in all fairness, she isn’t wrong. He shrugs nonchalantly and leans back on the bench, “Just trying to keep my head in the training, need to stay focused. You may be small, but you’re hot and it’s very distracting if you must know.”

He doesn’t understand why he’s telling her these things but just something about being in her presence has his confidence rising, so what of it, if she can act tough, so can he.

She ignores his sentiment about her looks and holds her hand out for him to shake, “I’m Arya.”

His head is telling him to let it go, to run and forget about her and focus on his boxing, but he finds he can’t turn her away at all, “Gendry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her next words take him back and he has to fight the jolt of electricity that courses through him at her touch, “We should train together, you know outside of Forel and Clegane. Maybe some sparring or something, could be fun.”

His eyes widen subtly, “You’re serious? What, your whole water dancing routine isn’t enough, you need me to kick your ass too?”

She laughs, a genuine belly laugh, and the sound is so sweet it’s like music to his sweaty ears, “It’s not a routine, it’s an _art form_. I’m a fighter and a lover, and I’d have you begging for mercy in seconds.”

He stands then, towering over her so close that their chests are heaving in perfect synchronization and her breath is mixing in with his as she perks her chin up to meet his eyes, sweet and utterly intoxicating, “Is that a _promise_?”

Gendry watches as her grey eyes dilate and fill to the brim with lust and he thinks that perhaps his own mirror hers perfectly in that moment.

He’s never flirted like this before, but maybe that’s because no other person has ever made him _want_ to act this way either. He likes her, in a way that he’s never liked anyone before.

He’s never really been scared of anything his whole life, but her, _Arya_ , well she definitely scares the shit out of him which is absurd because she’s only spoken a handful of sentences to him thus far, but it’s still a true fact nonetheless. 

What has he gotten himself into?

***

They don’t tell their respected trainers what they do after they both leave the gym for the night, both Arya and Gendry always lingering a little longer in the locker rooms blaming the intense workout on their sudden fatigue, but instead staying behind to spar and work out more with each other, although their sparring and workouts aren’t as innocent as they should be.

Arya could tell Forel she found an outside source of extra training, but Syrio would command her to drop all extra activities to remain focused on the art aspect and not _boys_ , as he likes to call Gendry when she’s staring at him a little bit too long.

Gendry on the other hand, could care less what Sandor thinks, he just doesn’t want the third degree he’s sure to get if he ever found out, so for now they keep doing what they’re doing and it seems to do the trick just fine.

He likes spending time with her, and maybe one day he’ll get the chance to spend a healthy amount of time with her outside of Beric’s gym, but for now, he’s counting his blessings.

He supposes it’s only a matter of time before people find out of their private sessions together as he suspects some of the regulars have began to take notice.

Lingering hands, sparring that gets more physical than regular sparring should, the way they just sit on the mats together with their legs in between the other talking and laughing.

One Friday night sparring session gets a little too heated, forcing Gendry to take an extremely cold shower afterwards, expecting to go home to a cold beer and a warm bed, he finds that dream isn’t easily obtainable when he finds Arya waiting for him outside and speaking only three words to him to confirm what exactly she’s still doing there, “ ** _Let’s get drunk_**.”

He stops dead in his tracks and just stares at her without even blinking like she’s grown two heads, he’s dreamed of something like this happening, but when it actually happens, he doesn’t know how to take it, “What?”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, leading him out the door, “Come on. I know of a great party happening right now that demands our attention.”

She drives them just outside of the city to a huge house party that’s well underway, explaining that the house belongs to her sister’s best friend’s grandmother and that this is her going away party before she moves back to Highgarden next week.

Large social gatherings, except for the sporting events he attends, have never really been his scene but since it’s Arya that’s dragging him there, well he has zero complaints about that.

He sticks by her side, just as he thinks she expected, as they drink and laugh and flirt and drink some more.

He meets a few new people, through no choice of his own, that he finds aren’t too bad, at least while he’s not totally sober.

After an unknown number of shots and drinks from plastic cups, he finds himself alone with Arya for the first time that night out on the balcony of the house, completely mesmerized by everything about her.

He takes a deep breath and forces down any fears his has regarding what he’s about to say, liquid courage taking full control, “I like you Arya.”

She turns to face him and gives him a bright, closed mouth smile with wide eyes, “Like, I _really_ like you. I think you’re this smart, funny, kickass person that is so far out of my league that I can’t believe you’re even here with me right now.”

“And I know you probably don’t….” She cuts him off with a single finger to his lips, the alcohol in his system making her a little blurry and his head hurt, but his heart picks up pace for an entirely different reason as she says, “Shut up, stupid. You need to stop rambling so that I can tell you that I like you too.”

Before he has a chance to respond to that her lips are on his and she tastes like the Tanqueray she has been drinking all night, a sweet poison he would gladly let end his life if she kept kissing him like this. 

It’s blissful but far too short when she’s suddenly pulling away and taking his hand in hers, “Let’s get out of here.”

Despite the state he’s in, he’d follow her anywhere without question and when she jumps into the first available taxi out on the street, he finds he’s doing just that.

He eagerly accepts the complimentary water bottle the driver offers him, chugging it down forcefully when Arya tells him the address of where they want to go, back to Beric’s gym.

He looks at her, the obvious question in his blue eyes to which she simply shrugs in response, “It’s my favorite place.”

Gendry smiles at that and squeezes her hand a little tighter in the backseat, thinking he’ll have to find a way to nicely thank Davos for throwing out his back which lead to him meeting the angel sitting next to him.

With it being well past closing time, he’s not surprised to find the place abandoned, but he is surprised to see Arya pulling out a set of keys, unlocking the place, and quickly walking inside while shutting down the alarm and turning on the lights.

“We don’t we work off this alcohol with another sparring session, loser buys drinks next weekend?”

“While I’m keen on free drinks from you, we’re in regular clothes, won’t that make it a little weird?”

“Afraid of losing, are we?”

Gendry laughs and takes off his jacket and shoes, stepping onto the mat with a newfound sense of pride.

Arya follows suit and soon they’re in a tangled mess of limbs and elbows, dodging blow after blow with grace and ease.

He knows Arya is left-handed so when she feigns a kick but goes for a swing instead, he’s ready for it and grabs her midsection before she can even blink, pinning her to the mat with all of his body weight.

His breathing suddenly becomes ragged as she remains completely still, wondering what he’ll do next and without even thinking about it, his hands travel down her sides and to her waist while his lips find her pulse point, licking and sucking a mark into her skin.

A soft sigh escapes her lips and he remembers the security cameras watching them.

Reluctantly removing his mouth from her neck, he stands them upright and leads them to the locker room, closing and locking the door behind him.

She releases an amused breathy laugh when he lifts her up onto the foam topped table in the middle of the room, before crashing his lips against her own.

With the buzz from earlier wearing off, the sudden frenzy to have that delicious friction between them turns into a pulsing want as they take turns stripping each other of their clothes, leaving Arya bare on the table and Gendry in nothing but his boxers hanging around his ankles.

He bends down and takes her nipple into his mouth, licking the soft pink flesh eliciting a loud moan from deep within them both.

He’s wanted to do these things to her since the moment he first heard her voice and from the frantic way she’s guiding his hard cock to her entrance, maybe she has this whole time too.

They create a perfect tempo, pushing and pulling just the right amount to chase and follow each other over the edge and when she tells him it’s okay to lose himself inside of her, he kisses her fiercely and spills himself hard and deep, kissing and caressing her sensitive body to drag her down with him.

Utterly drained, spent, and now sober, they dress slowly, each catching the other staring when they think the other isn’t looking.

Before he opens the door, she pushes him back up against it and kisses him deeply and with adoration he’s never felt given to him in such a way.

“So, are you going to take me on a date now or what?”

He wraps his arms around her waist as she does the same, “I don’t know. I think tonight counts as a pretty cool first date. Ass kicking, gin, kissing, more ass kicking, and then a little more kissing.” He kisses the top of her head as she breathes him in.

“Fine, how about a second date then?”


End file.
